psychoindisguise
danger-mouz:

calirosegold:

patronustrip:

tootsienoodles:

freackthehopeful:

skylarghost:

weasleyrocksyoursocks:

seong:

I AM FUCKING SCREAMING BECAUSE THIS IS SERIOUSLY THE BEST THING EVER
SWEET JESUS

You have your mother’s cheek bones

godDAMMIT NOW WE’RE SHIPPING CUTLERY
TUMBLR YOU NEED TO S T O P

I hope this post comes back to me when it has a short story attached. 

The Utensils were a happy family, just like any other. Fork was a loving, caring father, who worked at a bank, and Spoon was his beautiful wife, who owned a small business that allowed her to spend a lot of time with their son, Spork. Every day, when Fork came home from work, he gently clinked against the rim of Spoon’s face and asked how her day had been. She would go on and on about how her Aunt Bowl was letting anyone fill her up these days, and telling him he would never guess who they got a phone call from today (it was his brother, Knife), and he would just lean back against the china cabinet, staring at his wife’s beautiful reflective surface, and know everything was right in the world. 
One day, however, everything was suddenly not right in the world at all.
Fork woke up in the silverware drawer and instantly knew something was wrong. He looked over to where Spoon normally slept, confused when he saw nothing but empty space. Or, at least, he thought it was empty. It took him a minute to see the small note left there. Oh no. God, no, he thought.
He picked up the note with shaking prongs, and read amid tears:
“Fork,
     I’m sorry to leave you like this, but I just couldn’t face seeing you. It’s too painful. I’m not strong enough to tell you this to your face, and I know that makes me a coward. I know that makes me a horrible utensil. But I can’t do this anymore.
     Do you remember Cow’s party the other night? The night she was so drunk she swore she jumped over the moon? Well, I met someone that night. His name is Dish. And we’re running away together.
     Please, don’t try and find us. Dish makes me happy. He doesn’t spend all day staring at me, looking at himself in my reflection. 
Goodbye, Fork.
-Spoon”
Fork collapsed to the ground, wishing he could tell Spoon that the reason he loved staring at her reflective surface so much, was because of the way her surface magnified everything around her, making it seem so much greater and more beautiful than people could see themselves as normally. Her personality did the same thing. It’s what he loved most about her. And what he would miss most of all.

I CAN’T EVEN WITH THIS FUCKING SITE.


bra..fucking..vo

sweet jesus i’m crying over cutlery

danger-mouz:

calirosegold:

patronustrip:

tootsienoodles:

freackthehopeful:

skylarghost:

weasleyrocksyoursocks:

seong:

I AM FUCKING SCREAMING BECAUSE THIS IS SERIOUSLY THE BEST THING EVER

SWEET JESUS

You have your mother’s cheek bones

godDAMMIT NOW WE’RE SHIPPING CUTLERY

TUMBLR YOU NEED TO S T O P

I hope this post comes back to me when it has a short story attached. 

The Utensils were a happy family, just like any other. Fork was a loving, caring father, who worked at a bank, and Spoon was his beautiful wife, who owned a small business that allowed her to spend a lot of time with their son, Spork. Every day, when Fork came home from work, he gently clinked against the rim of Spoon’s face and asked how her day had been. She would go on and on about how her Aunt Bowl was letting anyone fill her up these days, and telling him he would never guess who they got a phone call from today (it was his brother, Knife), and he would just lean back against the china cabinet, staring at his wife’s beautiful reflective surface, and know everything was right in the world. 

One day, however, everything was suddenly not right in the world at all.

Fork woke up in the silverware drawer and instantly knew something was wrong. He looked over to where Spoon normally slept, confused when he saw nothing but empty space. Or, at least, he thought it was empty. It took him a minute to see the small note left there. Oh no. God, no, he thought.

He picked up the note with shaking prongs, and read amid tears:

“Fork,

     I’m sorry to leave you like this, but I just couldn’t face seeing you. It’s too painful. I’m not strong enough to tell you this to your face, and I know that makes me a coward. I know that makes me a horrible utensil. But I can’t do this anymore.

     Do you remember Cow’s party the other night? The night she was so drunk she swore she jumped over the moon? Well, I met someone that night. His name is Dish. And we’re running away together.

     Please, don’t try and find us. Dish makes me happy. He doesn’t spend all day staring at me, looking at himself in my reflection. 

Goodbye, Fork.

-Spoon”


Fork collapsed to the ground, wishing he could tell Spoon that the reason he loved staring at her reflective surface so much, was because of the way her surface magnified everything around her, making it seem so much greater and more beautiful than people could see themselves as normally. Her personality did the same thing. It’s what he loved most about her. And what he would miss most of all.

I CAN’T EVEN WITH THIS FUCKING SITE.

image

bra..fucking..vo

sweet jesus i’m crying over cutlery

foreverfangirlingalways

iprayforangels:

suddin:

ectricark:

imsirius:

#THEY DON’T WRITE EM LIKE THIS ANYMORE

[echoes of eleven blowing up cybermen to get information in the distance]

People who don’t love Nine are the dumbest.

People think that Nine is dark sullen and a killer. They’re wrong. Nine’s not dark. He’s light and happy and in love. He wears a leather jacket and is the closest Doctor to the Time War, but he is not dark. He is a light person who is fighting his dark past. He knows what he’s done and is fighting to right his wrongs. He just wants everyone to live.

Eleven on the other hand is the exact opposite. People think he’s a puppy in a fez. They’re wrong. He is not happy and joyful. He’s careless. He is having adventures while ruining lives and killing people. He is the man who forgets. He has forgotten the pain he felt after what he did and now is so comfortable killing.

He doesn’t remember Nine. Nine, the Doctor with depression. Nine, the Doctor who fell in love with an nineteen year old shop girl who didn’t need a magic back story to be special. Nine, the Doctor who went and saved his friends without killing. Nine, the Doctor who chose to lose instead of causing loss.

Nine chooses to give up being a god. Eleven pretends he is a god. Nine would make a merciful god. Eleven acts like a vengeful god. Nine is a puppy in a leather jacket. Eleven is a a killer in a fez.